And The Curtain Falls
by Kitcat39
Summary: The Phantomhives' killers were dead. The contract was fulfilled. What was left for a demon to do but collect his reward? Warning for character death.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler or Hamlet**

**Warnings: character death, Sebastian being all evil and demonic, yaoi? (Does eating a soul by way of unromantic kissing count as yaoi? I don't know. You decide.)**

**AN: My take on how the series is going to end. I've written it so you can put whoever you want in the role of the Phantomhives' murderers, since it doesn't matter to my story. Also, I quote Shakespeare a little because Hamlet rocks. Enjoy!**

The End

It was done. The murderers had been killed and all their earthly remnants burnt into ash. The contract had been fulfilled. It was done.

The demon formerly known as Sebastian Michaelis stood before his erstwhile master. The brat had the gall to stare him in the eyes. Impudent to the last, Ciel Phantomhive was. He liked that about him.

"Sebastian," said the child. No, not a child anymore, never a child. The little earl was a man now, in mind if not in body. "I have one last request."

The demon decided to humor him. He'd waited this long, a few more moments would do nothing but whet his appetite.

"Yes," he said, the usual "my lord" conspicuously absent.

Ciel took a deep breath and said calmly, surprisingly so, "Please make sure my affairs are in order after this," The earl paused for a moment and added, "You're the only one I trust not to bungle it up."

The ex-butler politely ignored the choked sob that ended the statement and thought on it. He didn't have to do it. The contract no longer held sway over him, after all. However, deep in his nonexistent heart, he wanted to. The Earl Phantomhive had been the most entertaining contract he had held in centuries. It wouldn't hurt to give him a little gift of his appreciation.

He looked Ciel in the eyes, hungry red clashing with frightened blue, and nodded. The boy relaxed minutely. The demon began his approach, falling to his knees to get a better angle on the small, childlike earl. He pressed closer, ready to go in for the kill and-

"Wait!"

He looked coldly into Ciel's eyes and barely resisted the urge to growl. His prey talked on nonetheless.

"Will it hurt?" the brat asked, a look of terror in his wide, marked eyes.

The demon merely smiled and said, "You won't feel a thing, I promise."

They locked gazes again, the tension almost palpable, before Ciel gave a short, jerky nod. The demon nearly moaned as he lunged forwards. He mashed his mouth against the earl's, the boy letting out a squeak of surprise, and he began to suck out the mortal's soul. There was a struggle of course, there always was, but it was not a strong one, and it grew weaker and weaker as more life flowed out of the tiny, fragile human until he finally fell still.

The demon dropped the corpse and flopped onto the floor, riding the waves of ecstasy. Nothing, not drugs nor torture nor sex, could compare to the sheer visceral pleasure of a full stomach after years of going without a meal. He felt practically giddy, if a creäture like him could feel as such.

Sadly, he couldn't stay sprawled on the luxuriously plush carpet of the earl's office forever, however comfortable he felt at the moment. He had made a deal with his former master after all, and he always kept his deals as a proper demon should. He reluctantly got up and dusted himself off before gazing distastefully upon the body. He had always hated having to clean up his messes. Luckily, the young earl had been afflicted with asthma, so the death would likely be written off as such. All he had to do now was alert the servants to their master's death and start arranging the funeral. The Undertaker would be the first stop, since the mortician already had a coffin ready.

He donned his butler mannerisms and strode out the door, only looking back for a moment. For some reason, likely the excess adrenaline running lightning-quick through his system, he felt the urge to say a few words. He thought for a second, then smirked. Hamlet seemed appropriate for the occasion.

"Now cracks a noble heart," he intoned, the lines tripping lightly off his tongue, "Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."

He turned to leave and closed the door behind him, the click of the lock ending his eulogy as the curtains fell on the tragedy of the last earl of Phantomhive.


End file.
